True and false facades

Cartagena in winter is hot! 32 degrees Celsius hot tempered mercifully in the afternoon by fresh sea breezes. It's old centre is blessed with most of the same buildings that were constructed in colonial times, usually 2-3 storeys high with very large wooden doors to keep the outside world at bay. We are lucky enough to be staying in one such beautiful building, on the corner of Calle del Estanco de Tabaco and Calle La Estrella. Our hotel is owned by a Frenchman and is perhaps suitably named La Passion. Once off the narrow cobblestone streets, where the midday sun bears down mercilessly and you start to understand the benefits of siesta, you enter a cooler and certainly quieter world. The house has a central courtyard filled with magnolia where the general theme of the place is more Moroccan Spanish than Carribean. Our junior suite hugs the first floor corner with a long verandah looking along both streets. A few blocks away are the walls of the city, tested on many occasions by pirates, including those like Drake, who would be knighted for his plundering. The sizeable roof top pool, which sits directly above our room's 14 feet ceiling, is a godsend at all times of the day.
Colombians, like the Cubans, are a mixture of an indigenous, African and European heritage, and with many shades in between. How I envy their black and brown skin! Spanish is unsurprisingly spoken with a vengeance here: English is of little use. It is the land of the emerald, fried food and the best beer in this part of the Americas. Already feeling that I should have allowed more time in Colombia.